


Hamartia

by WeepingCas



Category: Da Vinci's Demons
Genre: M/M, mention of past riario/zita, set towards the end of season 2, slight abundance of metaphors, so vague spoilers for that
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-03
Updated: 2015-11-03
Packaged: 2018-04-29 18:25:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5138036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeepingCas/pseuds/WeepingCas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><span class="small"></span></p><blockquote><p><span class="small">hamartia, <em>n.</em> - The fault or error which entails the destruction of the tragic hero.</span></p></blockquote><br/>The heathens here worship the sun and Riario starts to understand why.<p></p>
            </blockquote>





	Hamartia

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into Русский available: [Hamartia](https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488521) by [Baldanders](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Baldanders/pseuds/Baldanders)



Years ago, the sun and the moon entered the Vault of Heaven together and did not return.

Now, there are a new sun and a new moon and they set out to walk the same path. But the moon gets left behind on the journey, gone to mend a broken bridge, and the promise to wait for her is discarded even before her footsteps have faded.  
The sun does enter the Vault, after many a hardship and trial, and right at his heel another man, neither sun nor moon, his light dimmed by a world that has left him hard and ragged. He could have been another moon, once upon a time, reflecting the sun's light and dimming it to a softer glow. But now he only knows to destroy and even that starts to seem pointless.  
He yearns for the sun's warmth and light and the purpose they might bring to his life but he is not Icarus anymore. Icarus was free and exuberant, and this man hasn't known either in a long time. No, he is Daedalus, after he watched his son plummet to his death, despising the sun for it's relentless heat and still seeing no other way than to get as close as possible to be burned by the same flames.

-

He has sinned again and again, in the name of God, in the name of a man who calls himself ' _father_ ' and in the name of his own selfish desires. He has killed, and maimed, and lied, again and again, and never once has he gone to confess.

-

(He has also lain with woman outside of the bond of matrimony, but he can't bring himself to see Zita as a sin. Not Zita. Never Zita.)

-

Some part of him still clings to the thought of a forgiving and loving God, but he does not hold out much hope. His God has never shown him anything but cruelty.

-

In the end, he decides to go back to Rome. He knows not to expect mercy, or absolution, but he thinks that maybe suffering and dying at the hands of those in whose name he has committed his sins is an appropriate penance for all the suffering he himself has inflicted.

Da Vinci will continue on his mad quest, forever burning with brilliance and passion, too bright for anyone to look at him without having his image seared onto their eyes. Sometimes Riario thinks he will go on forever, can't imagine Da Vinci stopping (or worse, _dead_ ), and it seems fitting, that the artist will be moving and changing and shining in all eternity, while the faithful crusader (the weapon, the hesitant sceptic, the orphan) lies cold and still under the walls of Rome. 

The thought of never seeing Da Vinci again is both relieving and devastating.

-

When he tells Da Vinci that he is going back to Rome, he can not bring himself to call the man “ _artista_ ”. While inherently accurate, the word has always held such disdain (hate, envy, begrudging admiration) that he can not force it passed his lips. He does not feel the same way about this man anymore as he did back then (though still admiration, always admiration), and that's the problem, isn't it? The way he feels about the artist now? So he calls him “ _Da Vinci_ ” (still not exactly right, but better nonetheless, and prudent) and then, in a brief moment of insanity, he chooses to abandon all prudence and be truthful in this last thing.

 _Why not?_ , he thinks. He has already made himself more vulnerable than he ever thought he could be, and in the end he deserves any pain this decision will bring him. 

(Somewhere, he still holds out hope for forgiveness. He has already bared his soul to this man, every last ugly thing, and never once has Da Vinci been cruel. ( _But he has_ , a voice whispers, _his whole existence is cruel._ ) Still the hope burns in him, small and frightened, yearning for mercy in a world that seldom shows any.)

So he thinks, _What is one more sin? One more confession?_ , and keeps his eyes wide open as he slowly leans closer to his sun.

He touches his lips, light as a feather, against Da Vinci's. It is only meant as a confession, nothing more, and he does not expect absolution. 

When he draws back ( _too soon, much too soon_ ), the other man looks at him, stunned, before lifting his hand and tracing the shape of Riario's lower lip with the tips of his fingers. The touch is soft, oh so soft, and Riario can not help the sharp inhale, ragged and painful, that betrays his hope.

-

Da Vinci's touches are gentle, are _reverent_ ; as if Riario is a work of art and not an ugly, broken thing. For a few glorious moments Riario is flying, flying, _flying_ , ever closer to the sun until he feels like he is burning alive but he does not care because finally he is _free_. He can hate himself later (and he knows he will, he always does, it is the only constant) but right now he chooses to simply feel.

-

He gasps, breathless, “ _Leonardo_ ”, and the word feels like absolution on his lips.

-

Da Vinci burns bright and hot as the sun, and Riario knows soon he will burn bright and hot in the fires of hell for worshipping this false idol. 

  
  



End file.
